


Milkshake

by RobinandKey



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fifties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:55:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2024202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinandKey/pseuds/RobinandKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some fifties Sansan. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milkshake

Her hand stings from slapping his cruel face, as do the tears at the back of her eyes. All she wants now is to go back, go back to the Shake Shack, before all this happened, when she still believed him to be good, to love her. 

'How dare you. My father will hear about this and you will be sorry' Joffrey says, while giving her the vilest look his beautiful face could muster. He grabs a handful of her hair and twists.

'Please, don't.' But again, he pulls her closer and it doesn't feel like a kiss. Not what she thought a kiss would be like. But she had been wrong about him too, hadn't she?

***

Earlier that evening, Sansa stands in front of the door of the Shake Shack, the local watering hole, her hands smoothing her skyblue skirt down again and again. She has plans to meet Joffrey for a milkshake but doesn't quite dare to go inside yet. She tucks a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and rolls her eyes at herself. 'This is getting ridiculous.'

The sound of motorcycles makes Sansa snap her head up and look over her shoulder. The machines come rolling up the carpark, the largest one taking the lead. She knows who rides it, everyone knows. Sandor Clegane is not a man one easily overlooked, his size and burns took care of that. He hulks over everyone, only outdone by his brother Gregor, who is currently incarcerated for manslaughter. He steps off his bike smoothly and shakes his helmet off. His black hair touches his shoulders and when he turns Sansa averts her eyes, gulping slightly. 

'Girl, in or out, but choose now.' Sandor had closed the distance and looms over her. His voice rasps through Sansa's body, leaving her trembling, just a bit. She doesn't look up, just whispers 'in' and reaches for the door. His hand stops her short. Bewildered she looks up, trying at the same time to pull her arm away from his grasp. And stops. He looks so much younger up close, still sort of menacing but her left hand comes up involuntarily and before she knows it she has touched his cheeck, the burned side. His grey eyes look confused but softer too somehow. 

'Hrughhum.' The sound of Margeary scraping her throat, stops Sansa short and somehow breaks the spell. Trying to get away she steps back and slams into the door. Margaery, bobbed hair and roseprint cigarette pants, just lifts one perfectly manicured eyebrow and looks from Sansa to Sandor to her brother Loras, still on his bike with an amused look on his face. Ignoring Sandor completely now, Sansa turns around and swings the door open, stepping inside quickly. She sighs at the bright lights inside, the music, and the heat. Shaking her head once she starts looking for Joffrey. Which was, admittedly, not that difficult. Joffrey and his friends have sequestered a table right next to the jukebox. He has pulled one of the waitresses in his lap and is grinning at Merryn now. Sansa rolls her eyes and pastes a smile on her face. After smoothing her skirt down one last time she makes her way over.

'You know Sansa, my father being the mayor and all, I have the perfect pull to be crowned prom king. We should go together.' It doesn't sound like a request, something sharp to his tone so Sansa just smiles politely and sips her vanilla milkshake. Her eyes drift to the same place again. Sitting on the other side of the room are all the bikers. Margeary is talking animatedly to a guy with blonde hair, who looked like every word she said was gold and beautiful. Loras is hunched over, talking to Sandor, who leans against the wall, his black hair a curtain shading his face, and burns. He looks up before she could avert her eyes and Sansa feels her cheecks flush hotly. She quickly averts her stares at her milkshake, bobbing her foot up and down in time with the music. 

Joffrey grabs her hand and starts to pull her up. 'Let's go, I'm bored and I'm driving you home.' She just stammers, 'okay,' and lets herself be led outside. Joffrey pulls her to the car and gets in. As she gets in the car, Sansa says 'Thank you for tonight, and for driving me home.' Polite as ever. They soon leave the lights of the Shake Shack behind, along with everyone in it. 

As Joffrey drives past the street she lives in, a sinking feeling takes over Sansa and she clutches her seatbelt. 'Joffrey, maybe we should just turn around? It's getting late and my parents are expecting me. I'll be in trouble.' He just turns and grins at her. What she at first thought to be a beautiful face, almost angelical, had in the course of their acquintance become somewhat sharp, maybe even cruel. He stops the car at the lookout point and grabs a fistful of her hair, twisting and pulling her face closer. All she sees is that grin, his lips and pointy teeth and his eyes, clear and blue and promising pain with every passing second. 

Sansa panics and goes cold at the same time. They wrestle, he goes in and kisses her, hurts her. 'No.' It's all she said. No, and she slaps him. She bites back her tears, releases her seatbelt, herself and falls out of the car. Joffrey whips his door open, and runs around the car, claws at her arm again. A sound coming from the road stops him and Sansa has never been happier to hear a motorcycle. The huge black thing stops in the middle of the lane. The driver, tall and familiar, doesn't get off. He just sits there clenching and unclenching his fists. 

Sansa stands up and backs away from Joffrey.. It's a struggle to keep her tears in and her back straight but she succeeds. 'Don't ever call again, don't ever talk to me again.' It's the last words she's prepared to say to him again, ever. She turns around and heads for the bike. Sandor is still there, clenching his fist, trembling with the effort of not moving an inch. When she reaches him, he takes off his helmet. It's black with a snarling dog painted on it. It's beautiful. He offers it to her, unspeaking. Sansa looks him in the eyes and almost smiles. She runs her hand over her skirt, now wrinkled and dirty. The helmet hangs suspended between them. Sandor looks like he'll say something, he opens his mouth and frowns but before he can, she takes the helmet and climbs on the back of the motorcycle. 

She guesses he is her shining knight in black armour.


End file.
